Ready, Fire, Aim
by kausingkayn
Summary: A collection of drabbles that revolve around Roy Mustang, as well as the rest of the FMA crew. *Latest* Merry Christmas!
1. Wolf in Dog's Clothing

**Author's Note: 'Ello, fellow FMA fans! I hope I do justice to the characters. These are mostly going to be centered around Roy Mustang, but there will be a few about other characters and random stuff. I have only seen the Full Metal Alchemist Anime tv show up to the 53 episode and that piece of crap they call a movie.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned FMA, Roy would have had an eyepatch from the beginning.**

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State Alchemists were dogs of the military, trained to carry out orders and execute lives without a second thought. They were more like mindless, heartless zombies, really.

But among them, there stood a wolf in dogs clothing.

He joined the military to make a difference, to one day change the world and set everything back on its rightful path. Many times higher authorities questioned him, but those loyal to him helped him pull through.

He did what was asked, this wolf, and led everyone to believe that he was a humble dog. While secretly he was rising in power, hiding in the shadows, waiting for the time that the people would need him most, so that he could step into the light and pull off the mask.

This wolf sacrificed everything and was left with nothing but his dream.

His name?

Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist.

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**Review away!**


	2. Alchemy

**Disclaimer: If I owned FMA, Ed would be a giant that was sensitive about his tallness.**

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Alchemy.

The ultimate science, the core of the world, the duct tape of tools.

The art of breaking apart and then rearranging the particles into a new form.

Alchemy was built upon the philosophy of equivalent exchange; to give in order to take.

Some try to bypass this law, believing themselves to be powerful enough to take without giving. To create without first destroying. That was the apocalyptic mistake.

Because matter can be neither created nor destroyed. Just rearranged.

That is the true equivalent exchange.

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**Reviews, anyone?**


	3. What If?

**Author's Note: Special Thanks to my reviewer, this chapter is for you. All those silent stalkers out there, come out and talk, I wont bite.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned FMA, Edward would kiss Winry already.**

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Colonel Roy Mustang has many people's blood on his hands. He was a tainted being with a stained soul. A permanent darkness surrounded him. Yet, that was not the reason for his sleepless nights.

The lives he took during the Ishbal rebellion were taken not on his decision, he was just a soldier following orders, no matter how cruel and unusual those were. He was the light brigade of the military.

The souls that haunted him were not the ones he took, but the ones he was unable to save. Those who reached out to him to help, but were met with death instead.

What if he was there when the killer was taking his next victim? What if it wasn't raining? What if he was there to take the phone call instead of trying to kiss ass in order to get a promotion?

Would he have been able to save those lives?

_That_ was the reason that Roy couldn't sleep, and never would.

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**You know what to do.**


	4. Save Me

**Author's Note: Well, this one is a bit on the angst side, wont you say? I have had this sitting in my computer for a while, and I debated whether or not to post it. I do have an alternate ending, just ask and I will post it as well.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned FMA, Havoc would steal women from Mustang.**

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Roy Mustang sat on the middle of the floor in his apartment. He was stripped down to his underwear, ready to go to bed. The room was dark, it was late. His legs were crossed, eyes closed as he contemplated everything.

In his hands there was a gun. The gun that he bought himself when the military wouldn't issue him one. He was toying with the safety, flicking it on and off. On and off.

He couldn't do it anymore. He could barely sleep anymore, and in those few precious moments of unconsciousness, nightmares filled his head. There were permanent bags under his eyes, a dark contrast to his pale skin.

It was too much. He had joined the military knowing it was soiled and needed to be changed. He learned that he was wrong. The military had become evil, and needed to be destroyed. The military didn't fight wars anymore, it participated in massacres. Slaughtering the helpless, not caring for the people. And he had been in the middle of it all.

His hand trembled as he clicked the safety off for the last time. He placed the muzzle of the gun under his chin, his eyes still closed.

His world had fallen apart. Hughes was gone, Marcoh killed by a _homunculi_, the Fuhrer a homunculi, everything was a lie.

He hesitated a second more, almost willing someone to barge through the door or call on the phone. Waiting for someone to remind him that they were still there, that he wasn't alone. But no one came.

A loud bang filled the air, followed by a quiet thump. Blood dripped on the floor.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. The answering machine played, followed by a beep.

"Roy? It's Riza. I'm worried about you…."

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**Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?**


	5. Moments

**Author's Note: Been a while, eh? Well, I have been watching this show that a friend of mine introduced me too, and it has made me depressed. That feeling may have rubbed off a bit on this fic, just warning. *Manga spoilers.***

**Disclaimer: If I owned FMA, that 2 hour movie never would have been made.**

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Roy would lean back in his overlarge chair and stare at his office, wondering when it had become so big.

He would lock the doors, close the blinds, and take the phone off the hook. His hand would open the side drawer in his desk, reach all the way in the back, and pull out a packet of cigarettes. He would take one out, light it, and just hold it. He never brought it to his mouth, never took a drag. He would just let the smoke waft into the air.

Then, he would close his eyes, and imagine.

He would inhale deeply, smelling the smoke, and hearing the sound of Havoc's voice as he talked about his latest girlfriend.

Roy would hear the sound of chess pieces hitting the board as Breda once again beat Falman. Roy would hear Falman's ever-droning voice going back over every step, trying to figure out where he went wrong.

Roy would hear the small taps and whirs as Fuery played with his latest gadget. He would hear the clicks of Black Hayate's nails as they came in contact with the wooden floor as the dog followed obediently behind his master. Roy would see the agitated look on Hawkeye's face as she tried to get everyone to do what they were suppose to be doing.

Roy would watch as Hughes slipped into his office bombarding him and his subordinates with pictures of his wife and little girl.

Roy would imagine every back the way it should be.

If only for a moment.

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**Reviews? -puppy eyes-**


	6. Tradition

**Author's Note: Been a while, sorry about that. I am going to tell you that school is starting soon, and my updates will be fewer and further between. I'm a Sophomore in highschool and am on a sports team as well, so my free hours are going to be seriously cut. School doesn't start till the 25th though. I just wanted to give you guys a heads up.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned FMA, I would be able to find the manga somewhere in the United States**

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They all had their habits, little, annoying traditions that could never be broken. Things that defined who they were, who they are, and who they will be.

Like how Jean Havoc always smokes, even when Roy tells him not to.

Or how Breda constantly beats anyone he ever plays in chess, even though he acts like an idiot.

How Falman always talks as if he is at a formal dinner, forever taking his job too seriously.

And how Fuery is continuously tinkering with some sort of technological device just because he can.

How Riza is always by the Colonel's side, come hell or high water, even if Roy gives her a direct order to leave him and run.

And Roy… how he acts like he doesn't care, how he tries to keep up his cold mask. And how he fails horribly every time.

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**You know what to do! Reviews! and dance. People always need to dance.**


	7. Survival

**Author's Note: Been a while, sorry about that. Thanks to all of my reviewers and silent stalkers, you guys rock.**

**Discliamer: If I owned FMA, Roy would be even more awesome (if that is at all possible).**

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Patriotism.

Greater good.

Better of the Country.

These words send shivers down my spine, because in truth they all mean one thing. Humans killing humans for a goal so obscure that it is unreachable. They are illusions to make one feel better about the horrors they will be carrying out.

This is where my country stands now. Fighting a war for the "greater good," and I am out there with them, a State Alchemist, a personal killing machine.

But I long ago stopped believing in this weak mirage. Now, I act for the one word that hides nothing.

Survival.

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**Got the idea when my English teacher started to talk about Patriotism. The narrator is Roy.**

**Review!**


	8. To Save a Life

**Author's Note: Yes, it's been so long, you can kill me now if you want! Just Kidding....really. I want to live! Anyway, this kinda popped into my mind while I was washing dishes. The Guardian was on the television and that scene where he told his record of saves was showing, and I borrowed it. Hope you enjoy! Thanks to all my reviewers and silent stalkers. Keep it up!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Full Metal Alchemist, Roy and Riza would have gotten together already!**

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He was a new Colonel, just promoted. It was a night meant for celebration; the bar was full with soldiers that even Roy didn't know, with his extensive grape vine of 'friends.' Drinks were passed, stories were exchanged, and the Colonel was just starting to enjoy himself.

If it wasn't for that damn soldier.

The man was drunk; that much was obvious. He could hardly stay standing, and there was some kind of alcoholic beverage in one hand, libation spilling out of the sides as it sloshed around. He had approached Roy, a question ripe on his lips.

"E-ey, Co'nl. How m'ny guys you h've ta kill ta get that there pr'm'tion…?"

The words were all run together, and the drunken accent laid down thickly, but Roy understood every single word. He didn't have to think long, for the number was always right on the front of his mind. "Fifteen."

The man snorted, then a large, bulbous laugh filled the room, and the guy sauntered off, making jokes about how low the number was. But what the drunken man didn't understand was that that number wasn't the amount of people that Roy had murdered.

It was the number that he could have saved.

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**Yes! I am in a slightly hyper-depressed mood! Donate reviews? It's for a good cause, my sanity!**


	9. Merry Christmas

**Author's Note: Merry Christmas! So sorry for being so long, but I forced myself to sit down and write a christmas drabble just for you guys. Special thanks to all of my silent stalkers and reviewers, ya'll are the bomb!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned FMA, then my christmas list would be complete.**

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The snow was stained with blood.

And yet the soldiers marched on and on, their endless pounding flattening the white flakes, crushing the life out of them after they had softly floated to the ground. Gunshots echoed throughout the air; if one listened closely, they could make out a dreary holiday tune from the sounds. High-ranked officials barked out orders, and the military dogs listened without a second thought, slaughtering everything and everyone in their reach.

Lieutenant Colonel Mustang sat off to the side of the mayhem, in a small bunker that had been hastily erected once the soldiers had taken over the area and claimed it relatively safe. Inside were himself and his team; Havoc, Hawkeye, Breda, Falman, Fuery, and Hughes. They sat in a semi-circle around him, a battle plan laid out in front of them. Mustang had been put in charge of a small raid directed toward the center of the city. If they were successful, the resistance would soon crumble.

Everyone had on serious faces, all dressed in white as a camouflage to the snow. They were all moving, either cleaning their weapons or just fidgeting, none of them were happy about what they were about to do, but none of them backing down. It was for their country, the one thing they would fight for to the death.

"That's the plan," Mustang finished up, his cold, numb fingers rolling up the pile of maps. "no hostages, kill shots only, don't want any suffering."

He stood up and pulled on his gloves with a snap. The rest of his task force followed in form. The Lieutenant Colonel paused as he went to exit the flap of the tent, turning his head sideways to address his men.

"Oh, and Merry Christmas."

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**Just 'cause it was a christmas special didn't mean all happy and fluffy. :-P**

**Give me a gift in return by reviewing!**


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